


Sleepless

by Dustbunnygirl



Series: Tales of the Bard - Reggie's Story [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-09-05
Updated: 2007-09-05
Packaged: 2018-08-14 09:45:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8008639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dustbunnygirl/pseuds/Dustbunnygirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Title: Sleepless, 2 of 10<br/>Prompt: Late Nights, “the 10s” challenge.<br/>Fandom: n/a<br/>Pairing: Dahlia/Reggie, with guest appearances by Eva Morris and Guy Brenner.<br/>Rating: Maybe PG, but for excessive drama and little else.<br/>Word count: 1,315<br/>Warnings: No, this has nothing whatsoever to do with bestiality, even if one of the characters being written about here is, at the moment, a ferret. Those of you who read “The Not-So-Sordid Tale of Reginald the Unfortunate” (wherein I channeled Douglas Adams, badly) already know that furry little Reggie’s not at all what he seems. No angry comments or links to PETA, please.<br/>Disclaimer: These characters are entirely owned by moi and come from my still untitled, unpublished, mostly second drafted Monster Book of the Unholy. They do not play well with others. The only person to blame for them is, unfortunately, me. However, blame legal_padawan for the fact this story was written at all, as she twisted my arm into this challenge of hers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleepless

The apartment door swung open wide and hard, smacking into the wall with force enough to rattle the pictures in their frames. Reggie, mid-nap on the radiator cover by the window, woke with such a start at the bang of door to wall that he tumbled off into a basket of laundry. Willy, Wally, and Ed, three bunny-eared balls of dust-colored fur playing a modified game of poker in the middle of the floor jumped at the sound, scattering their cards and scurrying for their safe haven beneath the couch. One pink nose, twitching nervously, peeked out from beneath the maroon dust ruffle as Eva Morris rushed through in wrapped in a coat two sizes too big for her and held it open for whoever came behind her. 

All that was visible of Guy Brenner was the newest bright blue spike colored and sculpted into his hair. The rest of him was obscured by the large, blanket-wrapped bundle awkwardly cradled in his arms. Bright pink high top sneakers – canvas – dangled out of one end of the blanket. A candy apple red pigtail had escaped the other end. As Guy tried to lower his burden onto the couch it groaned sharply. A furry black and brown head shot up from the tangle of unfolded towels and unmentionables at the sound.

“Shhh,” Guy said as he pulled the blanket back, revealing a piece at a time. Dahlia’s face was harshly pale, whiter than any of the makeup in her drawer could ever make it. Her shirt, once an artfully distressed white tee proclaiming her a “Pretty Pretty Princess,” was now shredded from the hem halfway to the underarm and stained a bright, violent red. Beneath the tattered t-shirt was an improvised pressure bandage that looked suspiciously like one of Eva’s shirts, ripped and stained nearly as red as the ruined shirt over it. “Just lay still, sugarplum. It’ll hurt less if you don’t move, promise.”

“Promise-schmomise. Pixies always lie,” Dahlia said, a weak whisper that Guy had to strain to hear. When he started fumbling with the bloody knot holding the makeshift bandage in place it brought another groan, this one bordering on a cry. The second pained sound brought Reggie leaping out of the basket and careening across the bare wood floor. He paid no notice to the pair of cotton briefs that somehow became tangled up with his tail. With one leap he was poised on the couch arm by Dahlia’s head, chittering loudly at Guy and swishing his panty-wrapped tail menacingly. 

“Not true at all, my little licorice whip.” Guy grinned, ignoring the enraged chatter of the so-called ferret king. “And even if it was, I’m only one-fourth pixie, so I’d only lie a quarter of the time.”

Eva, sans jacket, walked back out into the living room, a replacement t-shirt for herself in one hand and a first aid kit in the other. There were blood smears on her jeans and shallow scratches and cuts across her stomach; panic and fear waged war for dominance in her eyes. 

“I still say we should take her to the hospital,” she said as she handed off the kit and started pulling the t-shirt over her head. 

“No hospital,” Dahlia whined, partially for emphasis, partially because Guy was twisting her on the couch so he could get a better look at the four jagged gashes tearing through her skin. They looked like claw marks, ragged and long and bigger than most dogs could manage. Guy tried to wipe the blood from the wounds as gently as possible to get a better idea of how deep they went, but Dahlia still cried out in pain. 

“They don’t look too deep. A lot of bleeding and pain, but they didn’t get too far past the skin. I think we’re all right.”

“For the sake of caution, I still think we should…” 

“I hate to agree with the uber-chicken here, but if they ask what happened – which they would – and anyone happened to mention we were attacked in the park in the middle of the night by an oversized wild dog that, by the way, could talk? They’d have somebody from Bert Nash there with a screen for OSH before we could blink.” Guy fumbled through the kit, digging out a half-empty bottle of rubbing alcohol, half a dozen gauze pads, and a suture kit. “I’m not going to ask why you guys have or need these.”

“My mom’s a nurse and she used to be a girl scout. Always prepared takes on a whole new meaning with her around.” Eva sat on the floor by Dahlia’s head and reached a hand up to brush hair back from her friend’s face. “They’ve got better drugs at the hospital, Dahl. Shiny happy drugs.”

“Are they really shiny?”

“Well, not in the literal sense, but I can guarantee the happy part.”

“What I can guarantee,” Guy said as he fumbled with the cap on the bottle of alcohol, “is that this is going to hurt and you’re going to have to be still.” He looked up and caught Dahlia’s eyes. This time, he didn’t even try to force a smile. “I’m sorry, boo.” Then he locked eyes with Reggie, hovering on the couch arm like a worried father. “You behave yourself. This isn’t going to be any fun for me, either.” Then he tipped the open alcohol bottle over the wounds and Dahlia screamed.

\--

Eva stood over Dahlia’s bed, watching her friend sleep. It was nearly three a.m., if the pink Hello Kitty alarm clock by the bed was any indication. It took nearly an hour for Guy to close the gashes up with four tight rows of stitches. Dahlia passed out before the needle broke the skin the first time, saving her the pain and them the agony of her screams. Now, the patient slept fitfully in a Tylenol 3-inspired haze and the doctor sat at the kitchen counter, knocking back martini glass-sized shots of vodka to make his hands stop shaking. Eva stood watch, leaning against the open door because she was too exhausted to support her own weight otherwise.

She didn’t realize she was asleep on her feet until something soft and warm brushed her ankle and startled her awake. Reggie’s tail, now free of stray undergarments, batted at her leg as he stared up at her from the floor. Eva crouched down and scratched the top of the weary ferret’s head. 

“I guess nobody’s sleeping around here tonight, except maybe the boys,” she said as she looked into the living room. All three puffs of fur were curled up in their pet carrier, snoring softly. Eva envied their ability to sleep through anything, particularly now. 

Reggie chittered at her, bumping her hand with his head. His tail jerked at the door in a stern, forceful manner. Eva rolled her eyes.

“If that’s your way of telling me you’ll take the first watch, don’t expect me to argue,” she said with a laugh. Then she gave him a soft nudge toward the bed and stood, groaning. “Go on. No cage for you tonight. But I better not find chewed on shoes in the morning.”

Reggie watched Eva go, closing the door all but a crack, and then sprang up onto the corner of the bed. He crept as lightly as he could over the mattress, afraid any light jostle of the springs would bring on one of the pained groans he couldn’t bear to hear. Finally, he made his way to her pillow and curled up on the mound of white left exposed above her head. 

“Don’t ever do that again,” he said softly as his tail curved along her cheek. No answer came, but he didn’t expect one. Instead, he rested his head on his paws and settled in for a long night watching his mistress sleep.


End file.
